Date: Mon, 24 Oct 2016 02:49:10 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 41-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction

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				   *****

			     Chapter Forty-One

   Skellhaundar, Calisto, Valanthe, and a half dozen other knights rode the
boat across the Bay of Drowned Men to the harbor at Night's Watch. In their
midst stood Ser Kian Brittain. He was out of his armor right now. Having
been freshly scrubbed from a steam bath, Skellhaundar ordered eunuchs to
slip Kian into a magically adjusting and skin-tight black rubber suit
originally created by Horigum Khaine of "A Bespoke Fit." The tailor said
that once it was donned, it would shrink to become a second skin on its
wearer, and it would hold that shape forever.
   As promised, the thing vacuumed tight over Kian's head and neck, hugging
the angular jaw and fine bone structure of Kian's incredible face; the
headpiece had no mouth, two holes for his eyes, and two holes for his
nostrils. The thing's glossy finish caught the light in very suggestive
ways, and hid none of Kian's delicious, shredded, and ropy physique.
   In fact, it accentuated it.
   To keep him warm on the journey across the bay, they draped Kian in a
large robe made of forty wolf pelts; it fell from Kian's broad shoulders
until it swept the ground. On his feet, he wore a matching pair of boots
also made from wolf pelts and lined with rabbit fur. Both of these pieces
of clothing were referred to as "The Skin of Evil," because everyone knew
how wicked the Valion knights actually were, and the wolf was their totem
animal.
   The black suit was reserved only for those that became Timeron knights
through the grueling events of the Blood Bowl, and Skellhaundar purchased
it four years ago. He'd dusted it off himself, removing it from storage at
the Arena of the Flayed Man. The color black signified the transformational
process. Black in this case was darkness and ignorance. It was the sloth of
a life bereft of any discipline or order. It would be peeled away and
auctioned piece by piece to the public crowd in a gymnasium packed to
capacity with a hundred individuals in it.
   It was completely accidental that the outfit aroused everyone on the
boat.
   None of the men here had ever seen such a handsome boy, much less
wearing the transformation suit. Skellhaundar couldn't take his eyes off
the six-foot-one teenager. Kian, bar none, possessed the most amazing body
he'd ever seen. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought he looked
upon an illusion because he believed it impossible that flesh could be this
impeccable. And Skellhaundar was not alone in thinking this. The other
knights (minus Calisto) crowded and bumped into Kian on purpose, making
fools of themselves. Kian was a good sport about it, laughing and wrestling
when appropriate. And despite the attention, Kian's wintry eyes looked
relaxed behind his rubber mask. He faced the white-capped swells of the bay
with that narrow, but extremely prominent hawkish nose of his. The angular
planes of Kian's beak made Skellhaundar think of portraits hanging in the
Gallery of Conquerors back in Dek Lek Thukar.
   Kian hooked his bony thumbs in his belt, below which lay the long swell
of a cock that belonged on a Clydesdale warhorse. It was stuffed down the
right thigh and fell barely short of the knee. The freakish sight was
impossible to ignore, all veins, ridges, and striations; it stretched the
rubber to its limit so that all anyone could see was what looked like a
mushroom with an eight-inch stalk. The fact that it was flaccid scared and
excited everyone who saw it. And gods was that second skin ever
detailed. Skellhaundar thanked his lucky stars that the wolf pelt cloak
went to great lengths to hide all that meat from view. Otherwise, the one
steering the boat might have capsized the ship because of the distraction.
   As it was, Skellhaundar's men took turns telling the boy about the keep
and asking Kian if he'd care to bunk with them. The boy hadn't made a
choice, but Valanthe had pretty much claimed him. He stood next to Kian
now, arm around his shoulder, and describing the various towers and their
perfunctory functions to his "brother in arms." The long hairs on the wolf
pelt cloak rustled in the bitter breeze; they brushed Valanthe's freckled
cheek as he spoke enthusiastically about the pigskin games they played in
the yard.
   "You'll be on my team," Valanthe said to Kian. "I can't wait. We need a
good quarterback, and I bet you're a natural."
   "I'd love that," Kian said softly to Valanthe, voice a little muffled by
the rubber.
   This is the fun part of what we do, Skellhaundar thought. The knights
aren't just soldiers, they're family. And today we get to add the best to
that exclusive club. "Thank you so much," Taleta, Skellhaundar muttered
under his breath.
   Calisto, who overheard him, just glowered and stared at the approaching
dock with arms folded across his chest. "Fuck Taleta," he said into the
wind. "Fuck all of this. Fuck you, Skellhaundar."
   Skellhaundar couldn't wait for the knighting ritual that would take
place inside the keep's gymnasium. Even now, it was being turned into a
kind of stage by recruits once they got word that a knight from the Blood
Bowl was to receive spurs. Tickets to the event (open to anyone that could
afford them) started selling at the arena the moment Kian was declared
winner. There was only room for a hundred men and women, and at the cost of
a thousand gold crowns a piece it took them thirty seconds to sell
out. This of course came as a shock to many. The results of that
ticket-buying frenzy was a bay full of small yachts all headed to the same
event: to watch Kian's knighting ceremony (which would be standing room
only for Zanda's wealthy elite).
   Skellhaundar had final say on the knights that would be allowed into the
gymnasium. Of course, Calisto was invited. Then Skellhaundar extended an
invitation to Makidon, Valanthe, Damien, and a handful of squires and other
knights to keep the peace. The ceremony would be overseen by the highest
rank cleric of Taleta in all of Zanda, Tasha the Paingiver, and it would go
something like this (there would be some differences in the actual
production):
   Tasha would call out important steps in the ritual, and bark orders to
all who were involved. Makidon, Valanthe, and Damien would all serve as
Kian's ceremonial "men at arms." Their responsibility was to remove the
transformation suit and auction it off (the money would go for athletic
supplies for the order's squires), escort Kian to the Auditor of Eilustriel
(who would issue a measurement of beauty), and then Skellhaundar would
inspect Kian's body with calipers and measuring tape to ensure that the
auditor gave an accurate reading.
   Then spurs would be chosen from a velvet box based on the findings and
the events of the day.
   Kian's ceremonial "men at arms" would each drink from a blessed wine
goblet and say a prayer. Their tongues now considered holy, each knight
would then approach the boy and ask him where he would like to receive a
caress from their tongues to welcome him to the order (and this decision
would be left up to the recruit). They would demonstrate their preference
with a "May I caress your..." line, but ultimately Kian would have the
final say.
   Once permission was given, each man-at-arms would bestow their caress
(not to exceed a minute) and then they would begin clothing him in official
Timeron knight armor. They would leave his metal sabatons off, and two of
the ceremonial "men-at-arms" would lift Kian onto their
shoulders. Skellhaundar would kneel, lick Kian's feet clean one by one,
tell him it's an honor to be his commanding officer, and then slip them
each into a pair of sabatons. If Kian deliberately placed his feet on the
general's pauldrons during any point of this ceremony, it was an invitation
to fuck him in front of everyone while the ceremonial guard held onto the
boy's ankles and wrists. Then Skellhaundar would put custom-fit black boots
on Kian's feet and spur him, using one of three spurs in the holy box. His
men would set Kian down, fasten a cloak to this back, and then give the
Timeron chant. Kian would kneel before Skellhaundar and Tasha the Pain
Giver, and Skellhaundar would knight him forever into the order with his
sword.
   And Skellhaundar prayed that Kian would touch his shoulders with his
feet. Please, by all that is holy, let this happen to me today. But even if
he didn't, Skellhaundar would be proud to have him. Once a knight, always a
knight, Skellhaundar thought. That is our way. There will be plenty of time
to get to know him.
   If a knight fell out of favor, he still retained all his privileges. If
he stood accused of crimes, a trial by combat was held. If the knight won,
then all crimes were dismissed no matter how heinous. That's how things
were handled in the Church of the Queen of Demons: simple, effective, and
fraternal.
   That's how Skellhaundar liked it.
   The boat bounced off the pier at Night's Watch, and Makidon leapt over
and secured it with a rope to an abutment. Skellhaundar and Calisto got out
followed by the others. They marched in formation to the left and right of
Kian, and escorted him up the frigid beach and into the training yard where
five-hundred Timeron knights waited, representing the gold, silver, and
bronze spurs. Calisto's own platinum guard, fell in behind the general.
   They saluted Skellhaundar and stood at attention until the retinue
disappeared into the corridor that led to the gymnasium.
   Skellhaundar saw all the preparations had been made. He looked proudly
at the flags of Noremost, of House Romax, and of the Keep of Anghul hanging
from the rafters. The stage was set and lit with ten torches...the same
number as there were Darkglories in the Church of Taleta. Elevated on thick
beams of pine, the polished stage had an ancient history. It was used by
actors for local plays and dramas to entertain the men, and for intimate
ceremonial pageants like the spurring of a knight or even an entire
graduating class.
   On the stage, posed on a mannequin of wood, was Kian's own full suit of
corobidian armor that he wore during the games. The craftsmen inspected
this decorative and functional masterpiece, and they found it to be of
incredible quality and totally authentic. Since it fit him perfectly, they
saw no need to change it out. However, they did buff and polish it to a
brilliant gleam. Seeing it now in such exhaustive detail moved Skellhaundar
so much that he wiped tears from his eyes.
   The metalwork required to make all those demon heads, the stars and the
moons, to raise ridges along the corobidian that somehow (miraculously)
matched Kian's veins, and to detail the outsized codpiece and form-fitted
butt tasset must have taken armorers years, Skellhaundar thought. It's the
finest piece in Taleta's army.
   Incredible equipment like this made Skellhaundar drool, for he had worn
the vambraces and cuirass of the Timeron knights for several decades
now. If it wasn't going to be worn by the sexiest youth he'd ever seen, he
might have insisted that it be sent back to Noremost for permanent display.
   Kian's new tabard lay on a stand next to it. Like the other knights, it
featured an eclipsed sun and a black star surrounded in a halo of blood;
beneath this demons cavorted in a twisted reverie around a pile of
bones. The thing was all dyed silk, and the colors never looked so bold
against a background of midnight blue and black. When donned, this ornate
sleeveless jerkin would drop to just above the poleyn.
   On a table—folded neatly—lay Kian's black razor cloak, which he
would need to train with at dawn. Made from a particular kind of wool that
came from the Noremarian Mountains because of weight, strength, and warmth,
the garment would attach to hooks hidden under the pauldrons. It had a hood
and a linen lining of midnight blue. Inside the hem was sewn a flexible
cibrian ribbon. Knights who became experts at fighting with the razor cloak
oftentimes preferred it to the sword.
   And then there were the boots.
   These had been made by the Master Cobbler of the Keep of Anghul, Baryk
Callowhorn. His family had been making footwear for Timeron knights for a
thousand years, and he'd consented to come with Skellhaundar to open up
shop here many years ago.
   Kian's new boots were form-fitted to hug the outside of the metal
sabatons and rise to just under the poleyn, encompassing the greaves. They
had a liner that would wick moisture away from the metal to keep the feet
inside toasty, warm, and dry. The outside was young black dragon hide,
glossy and hard and covered in small scales the size of a thumbnail. They
had the effect of shimmering in any kind of light. The boots had a one and
a half inch heel and closed toe, pointed so as to slide into stirrups. They
tightened around the ankle via four straps of supple blue dragon leather
(from unhatched wyrmlings) and were finished with corobidian buckles
covered in solid gold. The closed toe was decorated by a small human skull
(also of gold). Gorgeous didn't even begin to describe them.
   Kian's last piece of gear was a Noremarian belt, made of plaited links
of square black corobidian and fashioned into a kind of chain to tighten
about the waist. The buckle matched the ones on the boots, and the black
corobidian links (each about two inches square) had many burnished holy
symbols for the Queen of Demons, visages of dragons, and demonic maws.
   Hanging from the belt was to be Kian's scabbard. The boy had his own
longsword which was carried in a box by Makidon and Valanthe up to the
stage where they put it on a solid oak table for presentation to the
crowd. Skellhaundar admitted to never seeing anything quite like it, with a
handle covered in strange veins and a red jewel on the pommel that looked a
lot like a ruby of massive value. Skellhaundar reasoned that it had to be
glass. Kian hadn't used the weapon during the competition and told
Skellhaundar that it was given to him by his father. So Skellhaundar
ordered it draped in the flag of Noremost out of respect. It would remain
so until unveiled and buckled onto Kian's belt by his ceremonial
men-at-arms.
   Valanthe and Makidon led Kian behind the stage to give him instructions
and to tell him all the rules of what would happen. While they did that,
Skellhaundar paced on stage while Calisto looked on at the rich men and
women that had paid to see tonight's extravaganza.
   All the seats were taken in about half an hour, and the areas to the
sides of the doors started to fill up with people pushing their way
inside. Skellhaundar ordered windows opened to relieve the stuffiness in
the room. Even still, the place had him sweating the same as if he stood in
a blast furnace.
   The crowd eagerly crushed forward, taking up every inch of available
space. Women and men fanned themselves and talked in hushed whispers.
   After all the tickets were counted, Makidon (now at the back of the
room) signaled Skellhaundar to begin. Tasha the Pain Giver appeared from
behind a curtain. The ugliest woman Skellhaundar had ever seen, Tasha's age
lay somewhere between thirty and forty. But she was scarred on one half of
her face by flame at some point in the past and walked with a limp. One eye
was gray and cloudy while the other looked sharp and brown upon the
assembled spectators. She strode forward, casting a spell upon Skellhaundar
so that his voice could be heard clearly within the room. By that time,
Makidon had made his way forward and joined Valanthe and Damien on their
knees in front of the table. These three knights were dressed in full
battle regalia, and though it was hot and sweaty, each did not remove his
helmet or raise his visor.
   They also knelt perfectly still.
   "Thank you for joining us on this special occasion," Skellhaundar
said. "Today we witnessed incredible athletic talent on the battlefield of
the Arena of the Flayed Man. Tonight we are ready to witness a
transformation of a boy into a Timeron knight. I present to you, Kian
Brittain.
   Calisto (standing at the back of the stage) pulled aside the curtain,
and Kian walked forward still wearing the rubber bodysuit and wolf cloak
he'd donned to cross the Bay of Drowned Men. He stepped forward, turned
sideface, and stood at attention gazing at Skellhaundar's profile (which
was still addressing the audience).
   "The men I have chosen are exemplarary. One is from the Order of Silver
Spurs and is represented by Ser Makidon Oberon. The second is from the
Order of the Bronze Spurs and is represented by Ser Damien Kyrell. The
third is from the Order of the Gold Spurs and is represented by Ser
Valanthe Cicero." Valanthe broke tradition and gave the audience a bit of a
wave. This caused laughter to break out among the men and women. "These
knights for this ceremony are Brittain's men-at-arms. Valanthe, will you
please lead Squire Brittain to the Auditor of Eilustriel."
   "Yes, ser," Valanthe said, tapping his heels. "Come on, Kian," he
whispered taking the boy's hand in his. Valanthe led Kian over to the
naked, yet very human-like doll. "Put your hands around her neck and say,
`Rate me.' She's going to assign you a number like so."
   Valanthe demonstrated the device to Kian, standing in front of the
Auditor and placing his arms around her shoulders as if to kiss her. From
behind his helmet he said, "Rate me."
   It animated and her topaz-colored eyes oriented on Valanthe. "Five-foot
eleven inches, one-hundred seventy pounds, and ten percent body fat." She
tilted her head to one side. "Seven-inch erect penis, ginger hair, eyes the
color of new pennies, white skin and pure bred. Age nineteen. Athletic jock
body type with some wisps of body hair. You are a seven. This lies in the
top five percent of the male population worldwide."
   There were a few gasps from the audience and at least one woman said
(too loudly), "I'd like to see Valanthe naked."
   Valanthe stepped back and high-fived Kian. "Now it's your turn, bro,"
Valanthe said. "Don't worry, you'll rate at least as high as me."
   Kian stepped forward and (at Valanthe's urging) also draped his hands on
the machine's shoulders and whispered, "Rate me."
   The Auditor animated and said, "Six-foot-one inches, one-hundred forty
pounds, and no subcutaneous fat." She tilts her head to one
side. "Twelve-inch erect penis, white blond hair, blue eyes, age..." The
auditor hung up on this part for a moment, as if having difficulty
determining Kian's physical years. It finally said, "Nineteen. White skin,
athletic twink body type with no body hair at all except in the groin and
pits. You are a ten. No human male alive has been like you in a thousand
years. You are unique."
   A collective gasp surged from the lips of the attendees.
   Kian stepped back from the auditor and Valanthe was frozen in place,
staring at him. For that matter, everyone was except for Tasha the
Paingiver.
   "Valanthe," Tasha said, "when you remove his rubber mask, you must face
him away from the audience. It must be the last piece of gear you
remove. Then I immediately instruct you to put his helmet on with the visor
down."
   An uproar in the audience began in the front row from a woman. "We paid
good money to see this!"
   "Show his face! We demand it!" another spectator in the crowd yelled.
   Skellhaundar shouted, "Silence! You paid to see a knight get his
spurs. You will see this. But the wise Tasha has spoken. Kian's face cannot
be unseen, so we choose to keep it hidden to preserve his anonymity. It
would be wrong to see it show up on trinkets and curios throughout the
city, as I'm sure there are artisans here right now using magic to capture
his image forever on papyrus and transfer it to shirts and mugs. Valanthe,
do as you've been instructed. Kian, ultimately the decision is up to you,
but I would advise that you keep your face veiled in armor during this
entire event. We know what you look like. That's all that matters."
   "Yes, ser," Kian said respectfully. "I choose to keep my head hidden to
all but my closest friends." Then he took off the wolf pelt cloak and boots
and left them in a pile at center stage.
   This statement produced a hundred groans. People threatened to leave and
demand their money back until Kian stepped forward with Valanthe and
allowed Valanthe to remove a single rubber glove. As his naked left hand
became visible, a hush gathered over the men and women. Valanthe tugged on
it with his fingers, almost like a striptease, and it slipped from Kian's
hand with a drop of sweat striking the stage.
   "The bidding on Kian's left glove will start at one gold crown,"
Skellhaundar said.
   "I'll bid two," a woman said.
   "Make it five," a man said from the back.
   "Ten!" `Twenty!" "Twenty-five!" the bids flowed in finally capping at
"Thirty-nine gold crowns" from a shapely elf wearing a turquoise dress
studded in sequins.
   "For a fuckin' glove? How much was ever bid on something like this?"
Calisto whispered to Skellhaundar.
   The general shook his head, looking at the flawless white skin of Kian's
large, long-fingered, and vein-covered hands. Kian flexed them almost
unconsciously, and the bones stood out under the flesh. "I'm not
sure...maybe a silver coin or two? This is unprecedented."
   "So is his beauty," Calisto stated.
   Kian's other rubber glove went for just as much.
   Valanthe stepped aside and let Damien move in. Kian held his arms over
his head and Damien removed Kian's rubber shirt, sliding it inch by
tantalizing inch up his torso. As it came free, lots of sweaty (and
gleaming) muscles, rib bumps, and veins appeared. When Damien lifted it
free of Kian's head, sweat splashed the stage.
   "The shirt has his musk in it," Damien said, taking a whiff and holding
it up for the crowd to see. He winked at Kian from behind his helmet and
softly thrummed his fingers through the top of Kian's thatch of white blond
pubes, getting his gauntlets shiny with Kian's man dew. "Nice," he
whispered.
   Kian returned the wink.
   "We'll start bidding at one gold crown," Damien said.
   "Twenty gold crowns!" an Amserran yelled from the back. That started a
bidding war that went on for ten minutes. It finally ended with a short,
fat merchant with wobbly cheeks and a pinched expression offering to pay
one-hundred seventy-nine crowns. Damien handed the rubber shirt off to a
squire who took it to the man and collected the money. Skellhaundar noted
that the buyer immediately started licking the sweat from the inside, and
holding the scented armpits to his face, giving complimentary nods to those
around him.
   Then Makidon came forward, and Damien resumed his place next to
Valanthe, who stood just behind Kian's shoulder. Makidon took his
gauntleted hand and gingerly placed them underneath Kian's waistband. Kian
sucked in his gut a little, making his abs and ribs flare in the
light. They were so defined that the edges of each muscle looked cut from
alabaster by a razor. Kian nodded (signaling he was ready) and Makidon
pulled Kian's pants down. All eyes fixated on Kian's groin (of course) and
as Makidon tugged, inch by agonizing inch of Kian's huge ropy dick revealed
itself. When he reached the tip, the whole thing plopped free, swinging
there as Makidon dropped Kian's rubber pants all the way to the floor.
   Silence was cut short by shocked murmurs, gasps, and even curses; the
appearance of Kian's bizarre genitalia caused awe itself to ripple through
the crowd. People called his white, glistening cock "beautiful",
"grotesque," and even "monstrous." Others said, "That thing's an
abomination...all those veins and tendons sticking out! He would destroy
whomever he fucked!" Others came to Kian's defense and cried out, "He's the
most incredible thing I've ever laid eyes upon!" Some even uttered heresy
and declared, "On your knees before him. He's the son of Taleta and birthed
from a demon womb! This boy's got god's blood in his veins!"
   Kian stepped free of the rubber pants, and Makidon held them up to the
crowd. "Bidding will begin at one gold crown." A fight almost ensued as
people shouted out numbers.
   Now naked save for the rubber mask, Kian's long, narrow, and bony feet
left footprints of sweat on the stage. But for all the attention, the
long-legged youth looked relaxed, as if he were used to people gaping in
awe at his body.
   Several men and women in the front row crowded the stage to get a better
look, and the knights and squires kept them back by unsheathing their
swords.
   "Back away from the platform," Skellhaundar warned. "We appreciate your
patronage, but this is a solemn ceremony."
   Men shared eyepieces to get a better look. One in the front, a skinny
man in his seventies, said, "The sheath is uncut; the skin without blemish
or mark and smooth save...for that...thing...that incredible pubis and
swollen scrotum...so hairy and white! Gods does it look out of place on
him, but the asymmetry of it..." the man paused to wipe drool from his
mouth. "The tattoo on his arm is so lifelike that the leaves look like they
are fluttering in a wind. It must be a trick of the light."
   "Look there," another man said, placing the monacle over his own
eye. "The tattoo on his ankle. I've never seen anything like it. What is
that? I think it's the head of a black dragon in front of a red
moon. Fascinating."
   Skellhaundar's eyes immediately fell to the ivory flesh on Kian's ankle.
   He recalled the words of the Night's Daughter. She said to him, "It is
said that the man will be loved equally by the Church of Taleta and the
Church of Tethyr, and that the fairest general will not raise a hand
against him...make friends with him, treat him with respect, but have him
followed. He has some important part to play in all of the many events
leading up to the Queen of Demons being freed from her shackles. We must
not stand in the way, but foster conditions which allow us to achieve our
goal. Just don't fall in love, Skellhaundar."
   Skellhaundar raised his gaze and saw that Kian was looking at him with
great intensity through the eyeholes of the rubber mask. Those ageless eyes
were so lovely, but Skellhaundar could see the boy swallow nervously.
   The pronounced Adam's apple bobbed on his sinewy throat, and a trickle
of sweat appeared on the skin around Kian's right ocular socket.
   Is Kian a spy for the Church of Tethyr? Is this a coincidence? Do I even
care? Taleta's Tears I just want him for myself. I can't say anything...the
prophecies have been wrong before. It's just a mark...meaningless ink. A
coincidence. Dragons and moons are a common enough symbol that a small
percentage of the population is going to have tattoos like this. All of
these thoughts ran through Skellhaundar's mind in an instant.
   A rich woman uttered, "I will have your baby, Ser Brittain!"
   "Three-hundred ninety gold crowns?" Makidon yelled. "Is there more?"
   "Four hundred!" shouted another patron.
   "Five-hundred!" interrupted yet someone else with a full purse of coin.
   Then a fight broke out with people punching and kicking others to keep
them silent from the auction. Knights and squires went into the crowd to
establish order, and all the while the frenzied bidding for Kian's sweaty
rubber pants continued. It eventually stopped some ten minutes later just
shy of two-thousand gold crowns. The winner—three women that looked like
sisters near the door—paid eagerly and the garment was delivered
promptly into their hands once the gold was collected.
   "This is insane," Calisto whispered to Skellhaundar.
   Tasha the Paingiver wheeled out a table with calipers and measuring
tapes atop it. It also had a cabinet door behind which Skellhaundar knew
was a decanter of holy wine and a sacred goblet. She motioned for Kian to
turn away from the crowd and even though there were some "Boos" the crowd
enjoyed the look of Kian's glutes, the incredibly detailed musculature of
his back, and the view of his hamstrings and calves enough, that those
criticisms quickly died. Kian even posed a little, flexing while the table
was moved into place, but his posture showed he was getting a little
uncomfortable with the lascivious comments directed at him.
   "Please don't let them rape me," Skellhaundar heard Kian whisper to
Valanthe. "I'm a little afraid."
   The ginger knight placed his hand on Kian's chest and winked at him. "I
would die before I allowed that to happen, my friend," he
whispered. "Relax."
   "He has such broad shoulders," came a compliment from the crowd.
   Another asked, "Have you ever seen that much thigh gap?" and "his hip
bones frame his butt and waist...notice how everything seems to flow
outward from the angular planes there. The symmetry is extraordinary. A
finer boy has never been birthed."
   Valanthe swapped out Kian's rubber mask very quickly. Off it came, and
then (without pausing) Valanthe slipped the black chainmail hood over
Kian's towhead and then crowned him with the gorgeous helmet, carefully
lowering the visor into place. When Kian turned back around, the crowd
could still only see the boy's intense eyes (and the little bit of flesh
around them).
   Valanthe then auctioned off the hood, which eventually sold for
five-hundred gold crowns, while Skellhaundar took measurements using the
tools supplied by Tasha the Paingiver. Everything was precisely as the
Auditor of Eilustriel had declared, and Skellhaundar said, "Your
holiness...the machine's declaration is flawless. Kian really is a `ten.'"
   "I suspected as much," Tasha the Paingiver replied.
   Carefully, and with much ceremony, Tasha the Paingiver removed the
sacred gold goblet and filled it with blood red wine from a crystal
decanter. Muttering a prayer over it, she then passed it to everyone on
stage. Every knight present took a sip from it, even Calisto, until it was
finally given to Kian to drink from. Valanthe opened Kian's visor enough
for the edge of the vessel to touch his lips; Makidon held the actual cup.
   As Kian drank from it, Tasha the Paingiver led a prayer:

   "Taleta, Queen of Demons, Goddess of the Night,
   We present a man before you and beseech you to take him to your bosom
forever.
   Here is a man who is transformed,
   He shall be the watcher, the sword, the judge, and the executioner.
   He is the one that swears his spirit to you from this day until the end
of days.
   Look upon his flesh, see that this gift is the best that we can offer.
   Take him and refresh him with your spirit.
   Kian Brittain stands ready to receive your blessing.
   The knights who will be his brothers will welcome him with a kiss."

   Kian indicated that he was done drinking and the sacred goblet was
returned to Tasha the Paingiver. Then she motioned for Damien to present
himself to Kian. The gorgeously dressed Timeron knight of the Bronze Spur
Order strode forward and through his black helmet he said, "I, Ser Damien
Kyrell welcome you, Ser Kian Brittain, to the Order of Timeron Knights. May
I caress your...nipples...if it please you?"
   Kian nodded, and Damien took off his helmet. The young man on the other
side of that corobidian metal possessed fair skin, a sharp angled nose, and
narrow face. Gingerly and respectfully, he lowered his head to Kian's
muscular chest and flicked the end of Kian's left nipple. Then he suckled
on it gently, teasing it with his tongue. At about the thirty second mark,
he switched to the other nipple and repeated the procedure until it stood
erect on Kian's chest and literally dripped spit.
   The effect on Kian was noticeable, as his penis visibly stiffened into a
gentle upward curve and was now a good deal longer and thicker than it was
a minute ago, although still far from hard.
   "Thank you," Kian said, and Damien replaced his helmet and moved out of
the way for Makidon.
   The silver-spurred Timeron knight took his place in front of Kian. He
carefully positioned his body so that no part of his armor brushed against
Kian's dick, and then said, "I, Ser Makidon Oberon welcome you, Ser Kian
Brittain, to the Order of Timeron Knights. May I caress
your...g-genitals...with my blessed tongue?"
   Kian seemed to consider this for about ten seconds, and then gave his
permission.
   Makidon slowly sunk to his knees before Kian, respectfully removed his
gauntlets, and then raised his visor out of the way of his mouth. As
gingerly as he could, Makidon rolled back the layers of Kian's glistening
foreskin, revealing the soft moist and white dickhead for all to
see. Makidon lapped at Kian's urethra, pushing his tongue inside the slit
and then suckled on the end with his wet lips. He licked the shaft shiny,
cradled Kian's balls, and managed to insert the whole end of Kian's meatus
into his mouth once before the minute was up.
   As he rose to his feet once more, Kian had a full foot-long erection and
was trembling but still (somehow) managed to stand at attention. His cock
in this state had a glorious upward curve despite its weight and thickness.
   "Thank you," Kian whispered, almost choking on the words.
   Tasha the Paingiver said, "It shall be noted that Ser Brittain appears
to be right at home in our Order." This caused a few laughs from the
audience.
   Then it was Valanthe's turn. He stood in front of Kian and said, "I, Ser
Valanthe Cicero welcome you, Ser Kian Brittain, to the Order of Timeron
Knights. May I caress...your...g-gash?"
   Kian nodded, turned around, and Valanthe placed Kian's hands on the
table, bending him over slightly. Both Damien and Makidon moved to either
side, placing a gauntlet on one of each of Kian's round butt cheeks to
spread them slightly (because he was nervous and flexing); Valanthe removed
his helmet. Valanthe kneeled before Kian's ass, spit on it, and then licked
the white slit. His tongue moved up and down between Kian's muscular
cheeks, lavishing attention on Kian's small tight pucker. Then as the
minute was almost up, he pressed his tongue inside, licking up whatever he
found there, and bestowed a kiss on the cute boy hole. This act made Kian
visibly quake. When it was over, Valanthe and the others stepped to one
side and Kian stood back up to face Tasha the Paingiver and Skellhaundar.
   "Thank you, Valanthe," Kian said.
   Skellhaundar cleared his throat, appearing to adjust himself
slightly. "Men-at-arms, you may armor your brother."
   This part of the ceremony took about five minutes. Kian was put into his
armor piece-by-piece, and the donning of all that cold metal made Kian's
erection subside by the time the butt tasset was fastened into place and
his penis tucked away behind the large (but oddly appropriate)
codpiece. Kian was draped with his tabard, the pauldrons were put on after
that, and then his cloak was hung. All that remained were the placing of
his sabatons and the donning of those splendid boots.
   Skellhaundar motioned for Makidon and Valanthe to hoist Kian onto their
shoulders. Damien stood at the rear, pressing his hand to the small of
Kian's back to steady him. Then Skellhaundar got to his knees in front of
Kian, the sabatons, boots, and gold spurs placed on a cushion to his right.
   Skellhaundar was finally face to face with the teen's stunning feet, and
he just wanted to live in this moment forever.
   The visceral look to them, the narrowness and length, the high arch and
soft heel, and the veins over the top and sides took Skellhaundar's breath
away. The toes were long and bony, but sheathed in flawless skin and with
amazingly clear and carefully trimmed nails. Of course they didn't touch,
and Skellhaundar took them to his lips gently with his hand. He sniffed at
them, but he detected no unseemly smell. Instead, there was a light odor of
rain...a little more of leather and rubber. Perhaps even a bit of boot
polish. Flattening his tongue, Skellhaundar licked up Kian's sole, making
the boy shudder. He slid his tongue between the long, delicate toes and
over the skin on top. He sucked on each of them, savoring the salt. After
two minutes of such worship, both of Kian's feet gleamed with spit and even
dripped some.
   Then Skellhaundar stopped and slipped sabatons onto both of them,
tightening the screws that would hold them into place. Next he put Kian's
long boots on, and buckled those to his calves.
   "Do you wish to place your boots on your general's shoulders?" Tasha the
Paingiver asked.
   Kian lifted his feet, almost as if he were going to, and then changed
his mind. "I'm sorry, ser," Kian said to Skellhaundar. "Not tonight."
   The general paused for a second to clear his mind and to curse his
luck. Then he said, "Let it be known, that from this point forward, Ser
Kian Brittain is a member of the gold spurs and a Timeron knight!" Then he
fastened each of the gold spurs to the heels on Kian's boots. Following
that, Valanthe and Makidon set Kian down. He promptly got to his knees
before Skellhaundar, who drew forth his sword.
   "I knight you Ser Kian Brittain. Rise, brother," Skellhaundar
said. Meanwhile his "men-at-arms" buckled his belt around his waist, and
they unwrapped Bloodbane to hang it on Kian's left hip.
   Applause filled the room and even though Kian's face was covered with
his helmet, the boy's smiling eyes told Skellhaundar everything he needed
to see.
   "God, country, general, and brother. This is my oath, and I swear to
uphold the tenants of Taleta until my death!" the Timeron Knights (and
Kian) chanted. "Loyalty above all, service above all, and brotherhood
everlasting."
   Calisto, on the other hand, stormed from the room.


				   *****

The complete novel is now available to read at
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label
"The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.

I'm prepping "The Orb of Winter" for publication on Kindle. The cover art
for it is done. Anyone that wants to see it can pop over to
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/news.html. It features a new picture of
Kian on the cover :).

If you go to my website forum directly from this posting, you will want to
begin with "CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO."